


Sherlock Holmes is Getting Married

by cemm



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Bit Not Good, F/M, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, happy ending for the boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemm/pseuds/cemm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At long last the infamous consulting detective is getting married but not to his faithful blogger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturday 14:00

**Author's Note:**

> As a general rule I dislike Victor Trevor and have never been inclined to include him in any of my stories but my subconscious decided this story needed to be written. As always, I do not own or profit, merely pacifying my subconscious so I can get some freaking sleep.

John adjusted Sherlock's tie and smiled. His very best friend in the world was getting married. He was happy for him, really. Victor seemed like a good enough bloke. God knows he matched the consulting detective in the looks department. He was tall like Sherlock with wavy light brown hair and deep chocolate brown eyes that crinkled up when he smiled at Sherlock. Something that never failed to bring a dark and ugly feeling in the pit of John Watson's stomach. He was happy for them, really. He was happy for his best friend. Sherlock deserved to be happy. He deserved to find someone to settle down with. John had Mary and now they had little Emma. It was all fine. Really, it was all fine thought John.

Just like Sherlock, John had taken his best man duties seriously. He had helped Sherlock and Victor plan their nuptials. They decided to be married in the Church. A choice that had quite frankly startled John. He did not see Sherlock as a religious sort. He wasn't but Victor was an only child and he had promised his mother before her death he would marry in the family's parish. John was pretty sure his mother assumed he would be marrying a female. But she was dead and here they all were. John and Sherlock were in a small room outside the sacristy. Victor was in the 'bride's room' down the hall. That was the one stipulation by Sherlock in this farce. Victor would have to play the bride. The reception was to be held in the parish hall. John had helped fold the serviettes. It was Sydney opera house for the gents. John and Sherlock wore matching morning suits in dove grey with robin egg blue shirts and the palest of grey tie. The boutonniere's were Lily of the Valley, beautiful and very poisonous. Sherlock looked dashing and John yet again went to straighten his friend's tie.  
"For god's sake John, leave it, nothing has happened to it since that last time you straightened the bloody thing. It is fine"  
"Sorry, just nervous, you know, not everyday your best friend gets married and all." John attempted a smile but suspected it looked more like he had ate something that did not quite agree with him.  
"John," said Sherlock softly patting his friend's shoulder,"thank you for everything you have done for me and Victor. We both are quite appreciative of how helpful you have been and how accepting you have been of this."

John blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall and attempted yet another smile. He had tried to be accepting and helpful. Just like Sherlock had been at his wedding. John had even planned Sherlock's stag do. Victor was off with some cousins for the night. It had just been the two of them. John thought he would be a good idea to use Sherlock's plan for stopping at every street they had solved a case. This time though John purposely skipped over the gay bar. He told Sherlock it seemed a bit cliche for them. John Watson was not going to get his best mate a lap dance for his stag do. Nope not gonna happen. He deserved more. He was hoping that they would make it further this time. They didn't. They again ended up back at Baker Street drunk as skunks lying on the stairs well before even Mrs. Hudson had settled for the night.  
"John, were are drunk."  
"Excellent deduction. You should become a consulting detective or something and maybe get an international reputation."  
"Very funny. I am tired John, let's go to bed."  
"Bed?"  
"Yes John we are too old sleep on the stairs."That was how John had ended up spooning his best friend the morning of his wedding.

 

"John, I said leave the bloody thing alone, it is quite straight."John dropped his hands from once again straightening the bloody tie,  
"Oh sorry."  
"Are you alright?"  
"Yes of course. My best friend in the world is getting married. The sun is shining. My head has finally stopped pounding."  
"Yes perhaps we should have avoided the jello shots last evening."  
"Yeah sorry mate about that. I probably shouldn't have gotten you so drunk the night before the big day."  
"Nonsense John, I wouldn't have it any other way. Besides I haven't vomited in almost an hour."  
"Sherlock, you're sure about all of this?"  
"Of course John, why wouldn't I be?" John didn't mention how Sherlock was supposed to be married to his work. Victor didn't interfere with the Work. He always encouraged John and Sherlock to go out on cases. From the looks of it Victor had never even been on a case with Sherlock. John should be happy his friend had someone who wasn't threatened by their friendship. Friends, that's what they were, nothing more than friends.....ever....there never would be more. Obviously Sherlock was only married to his work for John. He only felt friendship for his straight friend. That shouldn't bother John but in the dark of night...well John Watson isn't as straight as he appears.  
"You boys almost ready?"Sherlock's dad popped his head in to make sure everyone was still standing and had quit vomiting."Oh son, you look so handsome. Victor is a lucky man."  
"Indeed,"whispered John.  
"Well,"asked Sherlock,"Shall we?"  
"No!"  
"Dad...we will be right out."  
"Of course son. I'll leave you two."  
"John," whispered Sherlock afraid to look at his best man.  
"I can't" sobbed John.  
"Can't what John?"  
"I can't do this....watch you marry Victor. I can't....I can't...I can't" sobbed John uncontrollably.  
"Shh...John nothing is going to change. It will be the same you and me on cases, running around London, Mary, Emma and Vic joining us for Chinese afterwards. You know he doesn't care a thing about the Work."  
"Do you love him?"  
"Of course John."  
" Do you love me as well."whispered John holding his breath.  
"John Watson I will love you for the rest of my life."  
"Why did you let me marry her?"  
" I wanted you to be happy."  
"Do I look happy to you?"Shouted John,"Look at me! Do I look fucking happy to you?"  
"No John," whispered Sherlock looking down.  
"I can't fucking do this. I can't. I love you so much. I can't watch you marry someone else. I don't know how you did it. You are a stronger man than I."  
"John, wait...."  
"No Sherlock, listen to me. I fucked up. I am married to a woman I don't know raising a child that isn't mine. I can't stand here and watch you make this mistake. And it is a fucking mistake. You are married to your work! Why are you marrying him?"  
"He asked, John he asked."  
"Right, Got it. I am a fucking coward." And with that John Watson turned and left his best friend and his life. He ran from the room, from the church, from the shouts of his wife, from Sherlock Holmes.  
John ran until he could run no more....He then threw his arm up and miraculously a cab appeared.


	2. Saturday 17:00

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now what John?

John checked his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were red and swollen. His head was pounding and he looked old and tired. He was oh so fucking tired. He straightened his shirt and pulled his jumper over his head. He balled up the abandoned morning suit and robin egg blue shirt with the palest grey tie and stuffed it all in the loo's garbage can. He zipped his bag up and worked his way back to his seat. The train was quiet for a Saturday afternoon. Not too many folks heading to Lewes in January he supposed. John wasn't quite sure why he was heading there to be honest. He and Sherlock had worked a case there once and the detective had made mention of one day settling there and raising bees. Sentiment, supposed John, was why he found himself on a train leaving London.

After John had left the wedding, he headed back to the flat he shared with his wife and child. He had immediately headed to the attic where hidden in a box marked 'books from Baker Street" was his bag. The bag that was packed with his clothes, spare toiletries, and the gun he had told Mary he had thrown in the Thames. The bag that John had packed the week after Moriarty's fake return. The bag for when Sherlock announced he needed to leave and hunt down some new criminal mastermind. John was ready to go this time. He would never watch his detective leave him again. He was ready for when Sherlock asked him to run away to the ends of the Earth for the Work. Sherlock never asked and now John was the one leaving on his own.


	3. Saturday 18:48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds comfort in old friends and a bottle.

"Dr. Watson, yoo hoo over here,"yelled a small red headed woman frantically waving her hands. She was in her mid-fifties or so John thought. He quite frankly had never asked. John and Sherlock had met Mrs. Edith Latimer on a case down in Lewes. Her husband was the Police Chief down there and had called the pair to investigate a murder. Normally Sherlock wouldn't leave for anything less than a 7 but he had heard Capt. Latimer raised bees in his spare time. The Latimers lived in a farm house not to far from town and had a small outbuilding they let for when the Capt. had visitors inquiring about his bees. Apparently his bees or rather his honey was quite well known among the budding bee keepers of England. Sherlock solved the case in a matter of hours and they spent the next three days learning about bee keeping. Rather Sherlock learned about bee keeping. John slept, read and ate copious amounts of honey and freshly baked bread courtesy of Mrs. Latimer. 

For some reason when John was in the cab leaving his life and Sherlock, he thought of the Latimers and of the bees. He called them from the train station and here they were, waving and smiling and welcoming him. John's body heaved and he felt fat tears begin to fall once again. He had become a right sop in his middle age. Edith immediately engulfed him in a warm hug and the Capt. patted him on his back.  
"Oh John it is going to be just fine, I promise", said Edith,"You can stay here for as long as need be."  
"Thank you so much," sniffled John. It would be fine he told himself. It can't possibly be any worse. He absently reached for his mobile to see if Sherlock had texted, momentarily forgetting he no longer had the device. After he had phoned the Latimers, he checked for messages and seeing none, he turned off the phone and deposited it in the nearest bin. John wasn't sure what he expected. No that wasn't true. He expected the consulting detective to text him, "Come to 221B Baker St immediately, might be dangerous".

They rode back to the Latimer's house in silence. The countryside was beautiful in the early evening. John's breathing finally began to slow and he began to feel the weariness from the day. Edith and the Captain let him into the spare house. It was just as he remembered it. There was a small room with a fireplace and an eating area. To the side was a small kitchenette and to the back was a bedroom and a bathroom. The bathroom was what John remembered most. in the center of the room was a large claw footed tub, large enough for a consulting detective and his blogger. John had fantasized about the things he and Sherlock could do in that large tub. This was the one trip John had not complained about the single bed. He had enjoyed waking snuggled up to Sherlock. It had been the last major case they had before Moriarty and the fall. In the following two years Sherlock was dead, John had thought a great deal about this little house and all the things he should have done there to let Sherlock know his true feelings. But now it was too late. Sherlock was married and it wasn't to him. John took another swig from the bottle of scotch the Capt. had given him.


	4. Sunday 12:00

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes and wishes he hadn't.

John rolled over and immediately made contact with the ground. At some point during the night he had somehow made his way to the bed. Right now the room was spinning and a large part of the good doctor was regretting drinking the entire bottle of scotch on an empty stomach. He pulled himself up and made his way to the loo where he promptly began praying to the porcelain god. "Oh dear god just kill me now" he thought as he once again dry heaved into the toilet.


	5. Sunday 15:00

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John awakes again...........

The next time John Watson regained consciousness he was snuggling the bath mat. He teeth were wearing matching fuzzy jumpers and the room had taken on a spinning quality. He pulled himself up, attempted to rinse out his mouth and ended up dry heaving in the sink. Giving up he wandered back to the bed and fell face down in the middle of it, making sure to keep one foot on the floor to help alleviate some of the spinning. It can't possibly get any worse than this thought John.


	6. Monday 4:00

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is a man with a plan.

John woke up again at 4am on Monday morning. On the table beside the bed were pain medication and a glass of water. He took both and gingerly made his way out to the kitchen. He needed caffeine and some dry toast. He also needed a plan. John was alone once again. No mad man detective to run after. No wife and no daughter. He had run away from everything he thought would make him happy. Sherlock was most likely on his 'sex holiday' with Victor. They were going to the south of France to visit family members from both sides. John's stomach cramped up at the thoughts of what they might be doing on their holiday. How fucking perfect he thought that both of them had grandparents from the same fucking region in France. Just fucking perfect , fuck fuck fuck. Get a grip Watson. It is over. You lost. You lost everything. 

John thought of the brown eyed baby he once thought his own. He would look at her and imagine she had his features. When her eyes began to turn he would look at Mary and look for some sign. Just some fucking acknowledgement that she had royally fucked up. Nope. She would smile and talk about how much Emma looked like her father. Who would be, thought John. He would take Emma by Baker Street to show her off to Sherlock, surely he would notice. Surely a genius like him would remember that it was genetically impossible for two blue eyes parents to have a brown eyed child. Nope, he must have deleted that too. Sometimes Victor would arrive when they were there. He would coo and smile and make Emma laugh. God John hated him when he would do that. He would look at their matching chocolate brown eyes and imagine that Victor was Emma's father. It would be perfect he would tell himself. He would get out of his marriage and he would have Sherlock. 

John pulled himself up. It was time to go to battle. By the time he had cleaned himself up and sobered up enough to go out in public it was going on nine am. He stopped by the main house to thank his gracious hosts and to see if he could get a ride into town. He needed to see a solicitor. The Capt. hadn't left for the station yet so John rode in with him in the patrol car. John giggled to himself at what Sherlock would think if he could see him riding in the front seat. He suspects his nibs would rather walk into town. In that ridiculous coat of course he would set out or he would attempt to call a cab. Posh git! The Capt. was kind enough to point John in the direction of the nearest solicitor and kind enough not to ask any questions. 

The solicitor was a kind man in his early 60s. John explained he wanted to file for divorce on the grounds of infidelity.He really didn't think it was necessary to mention that his wife was also a former assassin and had shot his best friend. Nope he would simply go with she was whoring around and got up the duff by another. He also requested a petition to have his name removed from Emma's birth certificate. He struggled with that decision but he wanted to give her birth father the chance to be her dad. Perhaps thought John if Mary hadn't shot Sherlock he could have been a father to that little girl. It is hard to be a father to a girl not your own when you want to kill her mother and are in love with your male best friend. Yup...thought John, my life has become fucking Eastenders. The paperwork was drawn up and would be sent to Mary. The solicitor told John not to get his hopes too high. This could get messy. He recommended John get a paternity test done just to be sure. John thanked him but told him that would be unnecessary. He did not expect Mary to contest the divorce. The reality was they weren't really married, technically. John was married to a dead woman. John liked to think he was a fair man and he was giving her an out. If she wanted ugly....he could fucking give her ugly.

The weather was nice for January so John walked around town. It really was a lovely town. He was walking by an antique store when he saw it. It was an old manual typewriter. The kind of machine spy novels were pounded out on in the 40s. John walked in to take a closer look. It was in perfect condition. Had extra ribbons and all the keys worked. John bought it on the spot. He had always fancied himself a novelist. My god after living and working with Sherlock Holmes he could surely pen a few spy novels of his own. 

John returned to his little house and sat down to begin his first spy novel. He thought about the cases he and Sherlock had solved and the adventures they had. He thought about his abandoned blog. He then began to type.....................

 

THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES  
by  
Dr. John H Watson


	7. Tuesday 11:00

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John settles in.

John had spent the rest of Monday typing his story or rather Sherlock's story. The words just flowed from him. He could hear the detective's voice saying he was too flowery, "the case John, tell about the case, no one wants to read about me". John had gone to bed just a little after 2 in the morning. He was drinking his coffee and sitting down the next morning to begin writing for the day when Edith knocked on his door.  
"So sorry to bother you John, just checking to make sure you were doing ok."  
"Yes, thank you Edith, I am doing much better thank you."  
"Good to hear, um John I am also here for another reason....you see our regular GP apparently has come down with chicken pox and the NHS apparently can't find anyone who can fill in for him and well I might have mentioned that you were a doctor and well.....are you busy?"  
"Actually Edith I am not, what can I do?" And just like that Dr. Watson found himself in a surgery in the middle of the South Downs. Well after he called his current surgery and resigned and then called the NHS and offered his services.....all in all it went quite smoothly and by mid-afternoon patients were being seen and all was well. 

John returned to his little house in early evening. Edith had made him some supper in gratitude for his help today. He ate and shortly thereafter began to write again.  
For the first time in months John was almost happy. He missed London and he missed Sherlock but he was feeling that perhaps he could make a life for himself here. Tomorrow he would start to inquire about properties in the area. He had a bit of money from Sherlock when he had died. Sherlock had left his estate to him. John never touched the money and tried to give it back to the detective upon his return. He refused and said to use it to buy a house for his family. John had promptly gone to the bank and began to withdraw the money. He would go every 2 weeks and make a withdrawal. He had made the final withdrawal the Thursday before Sherlock's wedding. In the dark of night John would fantasize about him and Sherlock taking the money and running away. He knew the detective would be bored within a week without his precious London. It now sat at the bottom of his bag. John smiled perhaps he would even have bees.


	8. Wednesday 13:00

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds a home.

John was astounded with how fast he had acclimated to the area. He busied himself at the surgery in the morning. The regular GP was going to be out for about ten days. The case load was light compared to the London surgeries John had worked at. The surgery closed early on Wednesdays giving John some time to look around at properties. He had made the fatal mistake of telling Edith his plan to settle in the area. By noon he had a real estate agent and a list of properties to tour. He had stayed up late again last night working on the book. It was coming together nicely. John was amazed at how much detail he remembered about their cases. He wondered about Sherlock and how he was adjusting to married life. John was debating sending the detective a copy of his book once he finished writing it. John was quite proud of it and he didn't think he could handle it if Sherlock were to belittle his effort. Sherlock can be a bit harsh at times thought John even when he doesn't mean to. John had a hard time picturing Sherlock married to Victor. All the times he had seen them together it was like he was seeing a different version of the detective. At times he felt he really didn't know the man at all. Now John wondered if it was Victor who didn't really know Sherlock. What if Sherlock was just showing Victor the good parts or what if it was just another disguise for the detective. John had seen Sherlock morph into all sort of characters. He had once seen the detective don the role of a pole dancer. Sherlock in a thong had fueled many night fantasies for the doctor. He doesn't think he will put that case in the book. Sherlock can remain in a character for a long amount of time but even John doubts he can do it for the rest of his life. John really hopes he is wrong about the detective. He does truly want Sherlock to be happy but most of all he wants him to be able to be himself.

 

John was exhausted by the time he got back to his little house. He had looked at about ten properties and they were all wonderful. A few stood out and the last one he had seen had taken his breath away. On the front gate was a sign, "pretty in pink". His agent had told him the owners had named the property for all of the pink flowers that bloom around the cottage in the spring. All John could think about was the first case he and Sherlock had worked together on. He would have put in a offer right then and there but what really sold him was the extra outbuilding that could be a lab and the previous owners had kept bees. John knew he was on dangerous ground here. He kept reminding himself that the detective belonged to someone else now. John couldn't resist. For some unknown reason it gave him comfort to think that Sherlock could have someplace to come home to. Sherlock had given John a home when he needed one. Now John would have a place should the detective ever need one. 

Hopefully by month's end John would be in his new home. John should be alarmed at how fast everything was moving but he couldn't be bothered. He kept reminding himself he moved in with Sherlock within a day of meeting him and had already killed for him. It didn't matter, John was happy. For the first time in a long time he was honestly happy and it was all due to himself. There was no detective rescuing him. No pretty nurse bringing back to life. It was all John Watson and fuck it all if it didn't feel fucking fantastic! John slept well each night. His book was almost finished. It was like he was closing a chapter on his life. He would always have his memories of his adventures with that madman but for his own sanity he needed to move on.


	9. Thursday 19:00

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were going a bit too well for the good doctor.

John should have known things were going too well. This is John Watson we are talking about. He is the man who gets explosives strapped to his chest. He is the guy who almost gets bar-b-qued at bonfires. He is the man who marries an assassin and is best friends with a former junkie. Yeah, John really should have paid closer attention. But he didn't he was happy. On Thursdays the clinic stays open late and they were jammed with stuffy noses and sore throats. The weather had turned and now January was showing its true colors. It was dark by the time John made it back home. He had gotten a ride home from one of the nurses. She was divorced with a 14 year old son. She was very kind and in a previous life the good doctor would have attempted to pull. He was polite and explained that his life was complicated at the moment and he needed some time to reorganize. John had become quite effective with his right hand and really didn't feel the need to add more confusion to his life. The nurse had dropped him off at the end of the drive way and he had walked the short way to his little house. The sky was clear and the star shone brightly. He once again thought of his detective and his deleting of the solar system. It was a beautiful winter evening. He was so enthralled with the night time sky he almost missed the car parked outside his house. It was a green high end Range Rover. This had Mycroft written all over it. The legal documents would have made their way to London by now. Sherlock was still on his sex holiday in France so big brother would have come a snooping. The man really needed to get a life or just get laid. Doesn't he have countries to blow up or something.

John steeled himself and opened his door, knowing damned well he had locked it this morning. The Holmes brothers always assume locks are for keeping other people out. John was totally unprepared to see not Mycroft sitting at his dining table but instead it was Sherlock. He was sitting there reading John''s manuscript.   
"What are you doing here? You are supposed to be in France on your sex holiday,"sputtered John.  
"And you are supposed to be in a flat on the the other side of London with you wife and child." responded Sherlock.  
"And yet here we are...so what brings you to these parts?'  
"I have your divorce decree."  
"Mycroft?"  
"Indeed, he does prove useful every now and then."  
"You could have mailed them."  
"I could have. This is quite good."he said pointing to the manuscript,"It is like your detective stories but so much better."  
"It is not a detective story. It is a story about a detective."  
"It is about me."  
"That's probably why you think it is so good."laughed John. God it was good to see Sherlock again. It had felt like years since he had seen the detective. John supposed it might have been years since he had really looked and seen him. Tonight Sherlock wasn't hiding. He wasn't pretending. It was like it was in the beginning, before the fall, before Mary, before Victor. Just the two of them against the world. But it wasn't just the two of them.  
"So did your husband make the trip with you?" John hated to ask but he needed to know before he got in too deep. Who was he kidding, John Watson was drowning right now.  
"My what?"  
"Husband! Victor you idiot, the man you married on Saturday. Don't tell me you have already deleted him. It is only Thursday."  
"Oh him. He is in Peru I believe. And I did not marry him on Saturday. If you had stuck around you would have known that."  
"No husband?"  
"No."  
"No sex holiday?"  
"Sometimes I wonder what goes on in your little mind John Watson. No, no sex holiday, no husband. No Victor. No Mary. No baby. Just you and me John."  
"Do I want to know what happened after I...."  
"After you went completely mental and yelled at me and ran. I had no idea your short little legs could move so fast."  
"You never texted me....after I ran."  
"No phone. Left it in my coat in the flat."  
"Shit."  
"Eloquent, as always my good Doctor."  
"So, I am not married."  
"Nope," said Sherlock making sure to pop that P.  
"You are not married."  
"Nope!"  
"Emma?"  
"Peru."  
"Peru? But that is where Victor is?"  
"hmm yes and Mary I believe."  
"Fuck, I was right. God dammit! I knew it. Shit, you fucker!"  
"Dr. Watson, five days in the countryside and listen to your language."  
"You knew Victor was the father.'  
" I suspected of course but until I saw them together I didn't know for sure."  
"You were going to marry the man for a case weren't you."  
" It wasn't going to be a real marriage. The clergyman was MI6."  
"I should hurt you. Remember the conversation we had about keeping secrets. The importance of truthfulness in a friendship. Any of this ringing any bells in that gorgeous head of yours."  
" No not ringing any bells...."  
"Why? Why didn't you trust me?"  
"I didn't know for sure and I needed to keep Victor close. I was curious as to why the man would reappear in my life after so many years. We were close briefly but I had not seen nor heard from the man in over 20 years. He suddenly appears and now is gay and wants a relationship with me. John you know me. How many people after spending anytime with me want a relationship with me."  
"Just one."  
"Exactly and seeing as he is not you. I was suspicious. I had heard rumors he had gone rogue. I was honestly afraid he was in place to hurt you. To take you out of the picture so Mary could finish her job and take me out. I couldn't risk losing you. I know I promised. I will lie every time if it means you are safe. You have to know that John. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."  
"Did he want to kill me?"  
"No actually he just wanted to spend time with his daughter. That is why we got sent on so many cases together. He and Mary would play happy family while we were out chasing bad guys."  
"Peru?"  
"Mycroft...again he has his uses. They have new identities and are together as a family."  
"So no husband."  
"My god John...for the last time I don't have a husband, yet! So get your arse over here and snog me senseless."  
"Such language Mr. Holmes."  
"You should hear me in bed."  
"Oh I plan to my dear I plan to."

 

John's fantasies about the claw foot tub had finally come true. He could not believe he had all 6 feet of consulting detective naked with him in the tub. It was better than he imagined, much better. Hmm need to make sure the new house has a tub just like this one he thought. Fuck. In all of the excitement, John had completely forgotten to tell Sherlock he was going to be a homeowner.   
"Sherlock,"  
"hmm,"  
"I need to tell you something. It is rather important. Could you maybe open your eyes for me."  
"Yes John,"After seeing those aquamarine orbs so focused on him John decided that perhaps the house news could wait......  
"I love you Sherlock."  
"I love you too John."


End file.
